“Hey, wait a minute—” said Constable Peel, who might have been dim at times but could see where this was going.

“You’re a policeman,” said Nurd. “You have a duty to protect.”

He kept a tight hold of Constable Peel’s shoulders, just in case the policeman got any ideas about seeking cover for himself.

“Look, it’s just not working out between us,” said Samuel. “It’s not you, it’s me.”⁶³

“How dare you!” said Lucy. “You’re saying that it is me!”

“No, I’m not,” said Samuel. “At least, I don’t think that I am. Hang on, I might be.”

“But nobody has ever broken up with me before,” said Lucy. “I do the breaking up. I even have a speech about how we can still be friends, and how you must be brave, and all that nonsense.”

“Right,” said Samuel, and his mouth began working before his brain could catch up. “Well, we can still be friends, and I suppose you have to be brave—”

Any further musings he might have had on the future of his dealings with Lucy Highmore were brought to a sudden end by the impact of her right shoe against Samuel’s left knee.

“Oooooooh!” said Lucy. “Well, I’m glad I’m not going out with you anymore! You’re strange, you’re too short, and your shoes sometimes don’t match. And by the way, this has been the worst date of my life!”

She turned to face Maria.

“You Jezebel!” ⁶⁴ she said. “If you like him that much then you can just have him, and I hope he makes you as happy as he made me.”

She stomped away, then stomped back again.

“Just in case you didn’t understand what I meant,” she told Maria, “I was implying that he didn’t make me happy at all, and I hope you’re just as unhappy with him as I was.”

“I knew that,” said Maria. “And I do like him. I think I may love him, actually.”

“Bully for you,” said Lucy. “I don’t want an invitation to the wedding.”

She stomped away for the second time, and stood beside Nurd and Constable Peel with her arms folded, simmering like a pot on a warm stove.

“What are you two looking at?” she said.

“Nothing,” said Nurd.

“Me neither,” said Constable Peel. “I’m just minding my own business.”

“Just keep it that way,” said Lucy. “Oh, men!”

Samuel, meanwhile, was staring at Maria with the confused expression of a man who has just learned that day is, in fact, night, and the moon is made of cheese after all.

“What?” he said, as he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Maria, then added: “You’re an idiot.”

“What?” said Samuel—again.

“For a smart boy,” said Angry to Jolly, who had been watching the entertainment and enjoying it immensely, “he really is surprisingly stupid sometimes.”

“Look, I like you,” said Maria. “A lot. I’ve always liked you. A lot. Do you understand?”

“What?” said Samuel, for a third time.